Many years have regrettably passed since I last read a Richard Russo novel (the late ’80s, when I devoured Mohawk and The Risk Pool back to back). Needless to say, it’s been a real pleasure to lose myself in the small-town lives that Russo draws so expertly, with both compassion and humour, in Nobody’s Fool:

Carl Roebuck wondered how Sully could stand to work with Rub, but in truth, Rub was one of the few people he’d ever been able to work with. Rub was the perfect dance partner, always content to let Sully, or whoever he was working with, lead. The beauty of Rub was that he had no agenda of his own. If Sully was in a hurry or had somewhere to go, another job to do when this one was finished, hauling ass was fine with Rub. If for some reason—like they were being paid by the hour—they needed to go slow, then Rub was even more of a marvel the way he was able to stay in motion without accomplishing anything. Rub was a perfect laborer, born to follow orders, not minding in the least when he was told to do things wrong, able to convey the impression of progress even as he ensured that the job wouldn’t get done today. If need be, you could rest easy that the job wouldn’t get done until there was another one to replace it. All of this without ever appearing to stall or even rest. Sully always maintained that if you had ten guys working on a rock pile, Rub would be the last you’d fire for laziness. Only when you’d fired all the others would you realize that Rub had not yet addressed his first rock.

Russo’s a true craftsman.

Paper Cuts lists Norman Mailer’s choice of “Ten Favorite American Novels” as of January 1988:

• USA, John Dos Passos *
• Huckleberry Finn, Mark Twain *
• Studs Lonigan, James T. Farrell
• Look Homeward, Angel, Thomas Wolfe
• The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck *
• The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald *
• The Sun Also Rises, Ernest Hemingway *
• Appointment in Samarra, John O’Hara
• The Postman Always Rings Twice, by James M. Cain *
• Moby-Dick, by Herman Melville *

Of the seven I’ve read (*), I’d recommend John Dos Passos’ USA Trilogy (ever so slightly) above the rest. It’s a great list, but USA continues to haunt the writer in me.

This epic trilogy is also one of the least familiar titles, something you generally don’t see on a high school (or, I guess, nowadays) college reading list. Fiction doesn’t get much better than Dos Passos’ masterpiece.

Last night The Wife and I had the rare pleasure of seeing Jeff Beck perform live, the first of two nights at the El Rey Theatre, capacity 700.

I knew we were in for quite the show when Beck opened with “Beck’s Bolero,” followed by “The Pump,” and then “Cause We’ve Ended As Lovers,” featuring bass wunderkind Tal Wilkenfeld. Providing the muscular backbeat was Vinnie Colaiuta, one of the all-time great drummers, while keyboardist Jason Rebello impressed on more than one occasion with tasteful solos.

Now I’ve seen a lot of guitar greats (Beck’s Yardbirds’ alumni, Eric Clapton and Jimmy Page; fusion giants, Al di Meola and John McLaughlin; and luminaries from rock’s pantheon, Ritchie Blackmore, Billy Gibbons, David Gilmour, Steve Howe, Alex Lifeson, Steve Morse, Keith Richards, Carlos Santana, Steve Vai, Eddie Van Halen), but there’s something about Jeff Beck that leaves everyone else wanting. Perhaps it’s his ability to swing from soulful lyricism to soul-sucking pyrotechnics in the same breath without ever seeming to lose his breath or sight of where he wants to take his solo.

Last night’s show also featured a two-song surprise cameo by Beck’s old cohort Rod Stewart (“People Get Ready” and “I Ain’t Superstitious), the first time the two have been on stage together since 1983.

To finish the set, Joss Stone took the stage to sing “I Want to Take You Higher.”

Honestly, I couldn’t imagine getting any higher after that incendiary set.

In 1990, Russell Baker slammed the notion of “Earth Day.” His words ring as true today:

If good sense were involved here, of course I would be against Earth Day, for the simple reason that practically everybody else is for it. When you find something being supported by practically everybody, watch your step. . . .

The second category (simply doesn’t matter) is probably where Earth Day belongs. It’s a media event, which is to say a public-relations stunt for the folks of P.R. World.

Another good reason for opposing it is that it’s a feel-good stunt. A day spent praising the earth and lamenting man’s pollutionist history makes you feel like a superior, sensitive soul.

Ah, superiority complex. The heart of the green movement.

I’ll remain brown, thank you.

Has any man ever uttered greater words of inspiration? Indeed, these are words not only to live by, but words to die by:

No matter how bad it gets in your life, there is always something that’s gonna make it much worse.

Thank you, Coach.

Given the time of year, I thought it would be appropriate to discuss the purpose of Christ’s life (something, sadly, not preached in churches), and “The Mystery.”

Up to 63 AD, the Apostle Paul taught the New Covenant to gentiles, explaining that those who accepted Christ as their saviour were reckoned to be saved in Christ. Considering that the New Covenant was made solely with the houses of Israel and Judah, this was the only legal way for gentiles to be saved. Once in Christ, however, gentiles were legally considered spiritual Israelites: children of Abraham with whom the Old Covenant had been made and for whom Jeremiah had promised a New Covenant.

In 63 AD, however, Paul wrote Ephesians and Colossians where he offered a new, divinely-inspired teaching no longer based on contingencies and stipulations: a promise rather than a contract. And only one party has to keep a promise: in this case, God.

In Ephesians, Paul writes of “the mystery of Christ that in other ages was not made known unto the sons of men, as it is now revealed unto his holy apostles and prophets by the Spirit”; and in Colossians, “the mystery which has been hid from ages and from generations but is now made manifest to his saints.”

At the heart of this new teaching is the promise of salvation and deification for all mankind.

Paul understood that Christ lived a substitutionary life for everyone: a life of perfect righteousness, perfect faith, perfect obedience to the law. And that life—His birth, His circumcision, His baptism, His crucifixion, His resurrection, His judgment—has been imputed to us as our sins have been to him. All mankind is legally considered in Christ, bound by no works to be saved. In fact, we’ve been considered in Christ since the beginning: “According as he hath chosen us in him before the foundation of the world.”

Nothing we do or don’t do can prevent our salvation—Christ has already done the work. That’s what Paul meant when he said there is one mediator between God and men. Instead of preaching what people must do in order to be saved, churches should be teaching what Christ did that got them saved. “For by grace are you saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: not of works lest any man should boast.” But remember, it’s not your faith, it’s Christ’s. That’s the gift: the imputation of Christ’s perfect faith to us. Offered freely, whether you accept it or not.

And even though you’re expected to do good works, there’s no stipulation according to the mystery. You’re free to do as you wish; you’re no longer under the law—including the Ten Commandments. But that freedom isn’t a license to be willfully evil. Paul warned: “All things are lawful for me, but all things are not expedient: all things are lawful for me, but all things edify not.”

If you don’t do good works, live a good life, accept Christ as your saviour, however, you miss out on the first resurrection and the Kingdom of God—which most mistake for salvation. Everyone else is resurrected at the end of that millennium when they will be taught the gospel and finally accept Christ to attain their salvation.

When Paul wrote in Ephesians that God “might gather together in one all things in Christ, both which are in heaven, and which are on earth,” he meant it. Christ’s mission is that “all should come to repentance.” Since He can’t fail because of who He is, no one’s left behind, no one rots in “hell” (hell is a fiction used to fill the coffers, to keep people in line). Not even Satan. Everyone’s saved. The mystery removes all power from anyone claiming to have divine authority on earth.

The mystery also plainly states that all of us are now in Christ—everyone who has lived and will live. That is the mystery’s promise. And since Christ is a divine person sitting on God’s right hand we are considered in that same position: our citizenship is divine—right now. Our actual deification comes after we’re resurrected, but as far as God’s concerned, you, me, all of humanity, are members of the divine family. And we’re expected to conduct ourselves as such.

Never forget: Christianity is not a religion but a philosophy of life. Christianity is freedom; religion is slavery.